


Dorm Etiquette

by OriginalCeenote



Series: Dormitory Rules [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce is done with all of this, College AU, Dorm Make-Outs, Ficlet, Invasion of Privacy, M/M, Neither is Brock, Reviewer Request, Roommate Revenge, Sam isn't amused, Steve moves in with Bucky, because Bruce is an RA, brief hints of lime, sequel to Dude My Roommate SUCKS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 07:53:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9810125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: Steve and Bucky decide to remedy their respective roommate problems by moving in together. Their friends and neighbors weigh in on the change. Not everyone is as tickled about it as they are.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I’m taking the kind suggestion I received in the comments of “Dude, My Roommate SUCKS…” and writing this brief sequel. I mentioned when I posted it that I would welcome head canons and prompts. I’m making good on that claim. I LOVE the thought of Steve and Bucky escaping their original roommates so they can be closer and let things develop. I’m absolute trash for Stucky AUs.

So, this is the sequel to "Dude, My Roommate SUCKS..." I had a nice commenter make the following suggestion: How about Steve and Bucky going to the housing office and petitioning to become roommates due to not being able to get any sleep with the ones they have now? There would be mild drama with Brock and Sam with the potential to have them stuck as roommates so they get a taste of their own medicine."

That's how this story was born. It's short, but hopefully sweet.

*

 

“So this is it?” Sam leaned against the doorway, arms folded and giving Steve a jaundiced look. “You’re jumping ship?”

“I’m moving down the hall, Wilson.”

“You’re a ship jumper,” Sam insisted. “I thought we had a good thing going!”

“We did,” Steve soothed. “And now I’m going to have a good thing going down the hall. With Bucky.”

Sam sputtered, throwing up his hands. “I can’t believe this. You’re abandoning me.”

“Aren’t you being a teeny bit dramatic?” Steve held up his finger and thumb with very little space in-between.

“Oh, you want _dramatic_ , Rogers?” Sam’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and he folded his arms.

“Hey, don’t wave those guns at me!” Steve told him, fondly slapping Sam’s bicep. “C’mon. It’ll be fine.”

“‘It’ll be fine,’” Sam mimicked. “You’re terrible. And you’re leaving me with your boyfriend’s roommate-”

“He’s not… quite my boyfriend, yet,” Steve pointed out. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Sam rolled his eyes, then pointed to himself. “This is not the face of a man who’s getting ahead of himself. This is a man who’s watched you two make goo-goo eyes at each other for _weeks_. WEEKS.”

“Did not,” Steve muttered, but his cheeks were on fire. Sam’s eyebrows spiked.

“Really? Steven, REALLY?”

“We’re just testing things out,” Steve told him.

Sure. That was what they were doing.

Except that what started out as “hanging out” in Sam and Steve’s dorm for Bucky whenever Brock had creepy Raven over turned quickly into constant campouts. The first night that Bucky had stopped by and stayed with Steve to work on homework, eventually conking out on Steve’s bed on top of the covers, Sam merely shook his head, tossed a throw blanket over them both, and took a picture of them with his phone, just for posterity. The two of them looked sickeningly cute; Bucky’s hair brushed up against Steve’s cheek as they leaned in toward each other. Bucky’s arm was protective, slung over Steve’s narrow shoulders, and it gave Sam a warm twinge in his chest. Sheesh. _These two_.

Bucky showed up more often, and Sam found himself at a disadvantage when he wanted Monica to come over to chill. Monica was lucky enough to live off-campus, since it was her second year, but Sam had another semester before he could even consider moving into the avenues. To his credit, Bucky was mellow and a decent guest. He cleaned up after himself and took out the trash without Sam dropping a lot of obvious hints, and he stayed in his lane. He remained on Steve’s half of the dorm room, with the two of them laughing like a couple of loons over episodes of _The Regular Show._ Sam didn’t mind Bucky. He really didn’t. And he did the impossible, he decided; Bucky got Steve Rogers to peek his head out of his little ostrich hole and actually _mingle_.

It was gradual, at first. Bucky was a regular in the dorm building’s rec room, playing pool with Tony and Rhodes. Steve would low-key drift downstairs, sketchbook or text books in hand, and he would watch Bucky play, and Barnes would keep giving him the eye between each of his shots, occasionally letting the ball scratch when Steve said something cute or gave him his puppy dog-eyed look. (Sam knew the effect of that look. It was _kryptonite_.)

Then they would do laundry together, taking their overstuffed duffles and generic powdered Kirkland detergent down the road to the strip mall fluff-and-fold, bingeing on frozen yogurt and Starbucks, running into half of their corridor neighbors, all of whom came back and told Sam, “Steve’s funny. Where’ve you been hiding this guy?” It was always _he always seemed so quiet, Sam_ , or _where does he usually hang out when he goes drinking, Sam?_ His life didn’t revolve around his roommate, last time Sam checked. He was not his roommate’s keeper.

Steve became a regular in the corridor whenever Bucky lingered there, leaning against the wall and hanging out with Natasha and Sharon. They enjoyed his shy smile and the way he blushed like a beet whenever Bucky teased him. It was the little gestures that made lips start flapping, Sam decided. Elbowing each other, and Bucky ruffling Steve’s hair. Grabbing him in a headlock that occasionally lasted too long. Steve’s efforts to release himself were halfhearted, at best. Steve yelped and jumped a mile the first time Bucky found out he was ticklish, and it became open season on Steve’s sides or armpits whenever the two of them were in the same vicinity.

Gads, those two were a mess.

They still had a habit of separating whenever Sam walked into the dorm, both snapping to attention and giving him sheepish smiles. Sam took to rattling his key in the door extra loud and longer than necessary to give them their cue. That was just how he did things.

So, in hindsight, he half-expected this.

Steve was watching him with a mixture of entreaty and embarrassment. His posture was uncomfortable and he was picking at his thumbnail. “C’mon, man,” Steve pressed. “M’sorry. It’s just… he was always over here, anyway. D’you really mind that much?”

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes again. He gave Steve a little shove, and Steve’s smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You suck. No, I don’t mind. Say what you want about me, Steven, but my momma didn’t raise me to hold a grudge. I know you like ‘im. Two of you being all soppy-”

Steve ducked his head and bit his lip. His arms crossed themselves protectively over his middle, and he stared up at Sam.

“Sorry, Wilson. It’s… just.” He threw up his hands. “This just feels like something we should do.”

“It’s okay,” Sam qualified. “G’wan ahead and get that ass. I know how it is.”

Steve’s eyes grew round, and he sputtered a little as he winged his pillow at Sam’s head.

Sam had to push Steve’s buttons. It was his _duty_.

*

“So. Today moving day?” Clint was tossing a football up in the air and catching it where he leaned against the corridor wall. Steve packed the contents of his desk into a moving crate, leaving his scientific calculator near the top of the pile.

“Yeah.”

“Wilson’s _pissed_.” Clint scrunched up his face as he emphasized the word, and his voice was filled with cruel glee. “Man, it’s gonna suck for him, being stuck with Rumlow.”

“Way to not make me feel guilty,” Steve muttered under his breath.

“Hey, you’re the shipjumper, here,” Clint reminded him. “Why feel guilty?”

“You suck.”

“It’s worth it, though, right? Can’t always switch this late in the year,” Clint pointed out.

“It’s _so_ worth it.” Steve’s expression said it all. Clint gave him a little shove.

“Wilson’s gonna miss you.”

“It’s not even about him. He’s cool, it’s just… it’s time for a change of scenery. Bucky and I just… click. Y’know?”

“I’m just yankin’ yer chain, Rogers.” He leaned in close to Steve and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Look, I know you like Barnes. I know you’ve tried to be low-key about it, but the rest of us noticed what was goin’ on between you two before _you_ did.” Steve’s cheeks flamed scarlet.

“I wasn’t trying to draw a lot of attention to it. To us.” 

“Eh. Why not? People around here hook up. It’s no big deal if you wanna make a little time with Barnes.”

“Make time?” Steve snickered. “You sound like my grandparents when you say that!”

“Do _not_.”

“Make yourself useful,” Steve told him, nodding toward his duffle. “Save me a trip.”

“Hey, I’m not your servant,” Clint protested, but he grabbed the duffle and followed Steve down the hall toward Bucky’s - and now, his - dorm room. Steve’s stomach had been full of butterflies all day with the anticipation of it, and it felt weird now that it was actually happening. And it was even more surreal when Steve reached into his pocket, juggling his crate under his arm, and dug out the key and unlocked the door.

Bucky looked up from his desk and gave Steve his favorite smile, one that made his eyes crinkle. “Hey. Is that everything?”

“Just have to do one last sweep and give Sam my key,” Steve explained, but there was a glint in Bucky’s eyes as he acknowledged Clint, and it made Steve’s stomach flip.

“Why’d you bring this guy with you? Is this the kinda guy yer gonna let into our room, Rogers?” Bucky accused.

“My bein’ here is an _upgrade_ for this dump,” Clint argued as he glanced around. “Ew. It’s so _neat_ in here.” Brock’s stuff was already packed up and his bed was bare of sheets, all of his posters rolled up and bound with rubber bands. “Place already looks better,” he muttered, tsking. “Trust me. You want _me_ for houseguest.”

Bucky smirked and nodded, rubbing his nape. “I can help you get the rest?” he told Steve, and Steve felt his hint of impatience: He wanted Clint to leave, so they could have a moment.

“Good, ‘cuz I had better things to do, anyway,” Clint said, shrugging. “I’m meeting Nat for lunch at that little Mongolian barbecue.”

“Just Nat?” Steve sounded interested. Hanging out at Sharon and Nat’s room was a thing, now, since he’d started spending more time with Bucky. And he knew how Nat felt about Clint after watching Sharon’s constant ribbing and the girls’ bickering. _He’s such a goof,_ Nat would claim while she drew perfect darts with her eyeliner before heading to her archery class, one of the only ones she shared with Barton. She also picked up a cute little arrowhead necklace at Hot Topic, wearing it with her skinny, scoop-necked tops to catch his attention.

Sure. Because Nat didn’t like Clint Barton _at all_.

“Well, yeah. I’m the only one she invited, hello?” Clint bragged. “We don’t all have to go everywhere as a group.” He reached out and pinched Steve’s cheek, then ruffled Bucky’s hair, yanking his hand away before Bucky could slap it off. “Sorry I can’t babysit you guys. Nothing personal.”

“I don’t know what she sees in you,” Bucky mused. 

“Hey, me either. But, um, I’m gonna benefit from her momentary lapse in judgment?” Clint waved and disappeared through the door. “Later!”

Steve huffed, groaning after the whirlwind that was Clint. “He’s a hot mess. Is it just me?”

“No,” Bucky informed him as he got up from his desk. He was giving Steve a charged look, eyes dark with something that gave Steve little shivers up his arms.

“We should go get the rest of m-” His words were cut off by Bucky’s hard kiss, and Steve’s little cry of surprise was garbled, tapering off on a shaky breath. His hands found Bucky, gripping his waist and tangling in his shirt. Bucky kept pushing his way into Steve’s space, gradually walking him backward toward the door. He heard Clint in the hall, as he caught what they were up to.

“Oh, God, shut the door!” he called out, and Bucky obliged by giving it a hearty slam, then pushed Steve up against the back of it. 

_Finally_.

Their room. Their space. Their privacy, hard-won and up ‘til now, too rare. Precious. 

And Steve was willing. Eager. Making little sounds of approval as Bucky’s mouth slid over his, in a kiss that was hot and sloppy and that made his head reel.

“Later,” Bucky insisted. “We’ll get it later.”

“It’s… the middle of the day,” Steve reminded him, but Bucky was grinning down at him, and Steve was struggling to kiss him through his own smile. 

“You don’t have class yet,” Bucky husked, and his hands felt hot against Steve’s skin when they drifted up under his shirt.

“I do in half an hour,” Steve complained, but Bucky was kissing him, grinding against him, and Steve’s fingers wove through Bucky’s hair, tugging on it.

“Then we have twenty-nine minutes,” Bucky said.

“You’re giving me too much credit… can’t walk that fast. That feels good…”

“Like that?”

But the sound of a knock on the door made them separate, and Bucky quickly pulled Steve away from it. They were both flushed, and Steve straightened the hem of his shirt as Brock burst inside.

“Geez, look at you two assholes,” he sighed, giving them a long-suffering look. Steve felt the hot haze of annoyance slide over him at the sight of Brock. He looked smug and unapologetic about stealing their moment. And Steve honestly felt sorry for Sam, because he got to deal with _this_ jerk for the rest of the semester. 

Not sorry enough, though, to move back in with Sam. Not when he could feel Bucky’s impatience in the room, thick enough to cut with a knife. He wanted Steve, hands itching to touch him again.

 _Twenty-eight minutes_ , Steve thought bitterly. Damn it, Brock.

“Don’t worry,” Brock assured them as he began gathering up his posters and his crate of CDs and books. “I’ll be outta here in a sec. Then you two can go back to bumpin’ uglies.” Steve’s eyes darted to the floor, and he wanted to sink into it, but Bucky gave him a considering look.

“Gotta christen the room,” he said.

Brock threw him a disgusted look. “Oh, God. That’s just nasty.”

He said this as though Brock hadn’t spent enough time contaminating their living space with Raven’s constant visits. Raven had made herself a little more scarce, lately, but Bucky was still glad he wouldn’t have to deal with her hanging out at his desk and going through his things when he wasn’t there. She’d worked her way through almost his whole supply of strawberry Trident gum after he’d once mistakenly offered her _one piece_. He would never have to wait outside in the corridor or get lost for the benefit of Brock’s libido. No more pity from everyone who lived in their wing. Bucky was so _done_.

And it hadn’t been hard, really, processing their applications for the switch. 

Bruce took it up with the resident advisory department, and he cautioned them to give a feasible reason for the change. 

“Lack of sleep,” Steve said bluntly.

“What he said,” Bucky added. “And my roommate and his girlfriend hump like lemmings.”

“Yeah. Lemmings,” Steve summed up, glancing at Bucky and nodding. “Sounds about right.”

“And Brock’s a tool.”

“Sam’s not, but he’s a lady’s man,” Steve told Bruce, who was scrubbing his face, looking resigned.

“Right. Okay. That was… a little too much information, but I believe you. I’ll just put ‘different living habits’ and ‘incompatible as roommates’ under the reason for the room transfer. Steve, I’ll move you into Bucky’s room.”

Bucky beamed. “Good. Mine has the better view of the quad.” Because Steve’s faced out toward the baseball field, but he liked Bucky’s view of the campus lawn and the games of Frisbee, or the movies the RA’s would project onto the huge screen on warm weekends. It was just… nicer in Bucky’s space.

Just. Everything about it.

So, here they were, champing at the bit for Brock to leave.

“You’ve already got my key, short stuff,” Brock told Steve.

“Sam has yours. He’s already in the room,” Steve informed him. 

“Don’t go hanging up any lame posters on the walls,” Brock warned, as though he was welcome to creative control of the room he was vacating. 

“We’ll lame it up, just for when you come visit,” Steve countered. 

“Might even hang beads up in the doorway,” Bucky chimed in.

“Jesus, I’m outta here,” Brock decided. But he gave Bucky’s shoulder a little punch. “Look, I know I might’ve… y’know. I know Raven was over here a lot. Thanks for being cool about it for a while.”

“It’s a free country. You can bring over whoever you want,” Bucky told him.

“In Sam’s room,” Steve said, his tone too gleeful. _Twenty-four minutes,_ his libido nagged. And Bucky was shooting him little looks, leaning his hips on his desk. Steve bumped his shoulder with his, and Brock sighed loudly.

“Get a room. Get _this_ room, but let me get the fuck out of here, first.” Brock gathered up his things in two trips, and when he left with his folded up pile of bedding, he saluted them, but as his hand left his brow, he extended his middle finger, grinning savagely. “Have a nice life, boys.”

“Don’t let the door hit ya where the Lord split ya,” Bucky called after him.

“Asshole,” Brock sang as he made his way down the corridor.

Bucky shoved the door closed, bracing his palms against it for dramatic effect. “Get thee away, Satan!” he cried. “He doesn’t have the key. Thank _God_. Oh, my God, Stevie, he’s finally gone.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy. I’m kinda jealous.”

“Why?” Bucky’s nose scrunched up.

“Because I don’t think I could top this. This joy I see radiating from you right now,” Steve teased as he closed the gap between them, letting gravity pull them together so their bellies touched, and Bucky’s fingers curled around Steve’s hips. “I don’t think I could follow that.”

“I think you could. Just take off this shirt.”

“Twenty-two minutes,” Steve whined.

“It’s enough. It’ll be enough, baby,” Bucky chuckled, leaning down to nuzzle him, teasing him with his lips. They were so soft, and Steve grew lost in his kiss, in the heady satisfaction of being alone with Bucky. He smelled so good, and his skin was warm.

“It’s never enough,” Steve gritted out. 

“It’s gonna hafta do.” Bucky sucked on Steve’s lower lip. “For now. Let me see you.”

“Bucky…” Steve ducked his face for a moment, but Bucky’s lips grazed the crown of his cheekbone.

“I like lookin’ at you, Stevie. C’mon. Please?”

Steve was bashful, even now, at Bucky seeing him undressed in broad daylight. Usually, when they shared a bed for the night, it was furtive, with Sam snoring on the other side of the room, with hardly any light coming in through the slats between the blinds. Steve was used to seeing the dim outline of Bucky’s body in the dark, feeling those long-fingered, broad hands explore him, taking their time mapping out Steve’s spare body. They spared Sam the courtesy of quiet, reserving more heated sessions for those rare occasions when he would leave them the room for a couple of hours. 

Bucky pressed a line of light kisses down the side of Steve’s face, and he huffed a laugh. “Tickles,” he complained, but not _really_.

“C’mon. Take all of that off.”

“All of it?” Steve was incredulous.

“Do you have a quiz due?” Bucky pressed.

“No. Just a few take-home questions.”

“Then for the next nineteen minutes, you’re mine.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Gotta christen the room, right?”

“Yeah, when we… have more...time.” That was Bucky’s mouth on his neck, sucking the taut cords and lapping hotly at his flesh. Steve felt desire kick in his gut and a hardening between his legs. Bucky gave him a little experimental thrust of his hips, and Steve matched it, groaning when Bucky’s hands found themselves under shirt.

“Time management. First thing they teach you about, livin’ in the dorms,” Bucky mused. 

“Your neighbor’s right to quiet supersedes your right to make noise,” Steve recited dutifully, but his voice faltered when Bucky cupped his ass and squeezed.

“We’ve been quiet,” Bucky murmured as he peeled Steve out of the offending shirt, and he kissed him deeply, enjoying the way Steve was clinging to him. “Now, it’s time to make a little noise.”


End file.
